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Saturday, September 13, 2014

Aesop & me

There was the time
when Dana’s grandmother died, and Aesop and I smoked peyote before the funeral.
The funeral was in an old stone church and we sat pushed right up against one another
during the service and I remember sweating a lot. We watched the spirits wriggling
in the shadows reaching out for the casket and afterwards, we compared notes
about what it was we’d seen.

Aesop and I used to
record terrible, terrible ambient music together. We’d send our 4-track tapes
off to Brian Eno and to Harold Budd, to Steve Stapleton and to Alvin Lucier,
but we never heard back from any of them and Eno would return his envelopes not
even opened.

I met Aesop in a dingy
record store when I was fifteen years old. The record store was called Sound
Exchange. Aesop was wearing a Silver Apples t-shirt. We got to talking about
krautrock and about astral projection and about whether anybody had ever
recorded a good album after age fifty.

Later on, I introduced
him to my twin brother, Antony, and those two fell in love right away and it
lasted for twelve years.

Aesop and I climbed
a lot of trees together and we went to a tarantula convention in Tucson,
Arizona, too. There was a time we got arrested for stealing a cardboard Santa
Claus from in front of a Whataburger and a time we got legally married to make some
silly political statement or other.

I told you before
about that last bit, didn’t I?

They do not make
many friends like Aesop over in life’s friends-making department, but now it
has been more than two years since I’ve even so much as spoken to the guy. You
know… After Antony left him and Dana left me and they ran off and got married,
it all just felt too awkward, somehow. I wanted
to call. It was easier not to.

Now I think I’ve
got to.

I’ve got to find my
brother.

You might have already
heard this, but back on July 4 – more than two months ago now! – Dana had a stroke.
Ten days later, Antony packed up his belongings. He quit his job. He did not
tell anybody where he was going or what he was doing. He just disappeared.

I’ve got to find
him – just to make sure he is alright – but I am out of ideas about where it is
that he might be.

Aesop might know, though, so I pick up the phone to call Aesop and my hands are shaking. I am planning what
I will say and I am really scared that nothing is going to come out when I try
and talk, you know?

Before I realize what
is even going on, Aesop answers (first ring!) and he says this: “Why the fuck did it take two years for you
to finally call me?”

Then I laugh and
then he laughs and then we are just two friends laughing together on the phone
again.

I love those type of friends, the sort who will pick up the phone and you just pick up right where you left off. Those people are important in life.Hold on, "tarantula convention"!?! That doesn't exist, does it? Please tell me there isn't a place where giant hairy spiders gather. Guess who has a new phobia.

1-2 PM: Annual update on being hairy and scary2-3 PM: New ways to sneak up on things3-4 PM: Everything alive is edible!4-5 PM: How Hollywood continues to defame us (the legacy of Shatner and Eastwood)5-6 PM: Excursion: Let's find a random person to attack!

If you ever want to team up with Bryan and the Dictator Tots, let me know. That's my imaginary band that doesn't have much more than the name. And me (I do vocals, kazoo, and air guitar).

You had an all audio post? I don't remember that. I guess anything that isn't brightly colored pictures automatically withdraws my attention (he said, after posting a blog full of brightly colored pictures).

" if only to see how much people will pay me to take them back down afterwards..." Now THAT's a line I can relate to! As a starving photographer, I'm often amazed at how adamant some people are to have certain pictures deleted from my camera or from a website gallery. Finally dawned on me that I could charge more for photos they want deleted than they're willing to pay for them to be printed or enlarged. Requires a different "eye" when I'm working. I have to find the absolute worst angle and light, snap away, then run over to show them the resultant image. That's when I tell them I charge $5 per deletion, and if they balk I remind them that I pick the gallery thumbnails personally, and can always make note of an image number.

That was fun. I liked your reading of blaming Dave for all of life's problems. It's got good production value, too. No popping, or weird choppy edits, or random cats meowing (not kidding, I've heard so many podcasts full of "No kitty, I'll feed you later, stop it, I'm trying to do something right now." "MEOOOOW")

As a bonus, it's also not two and a half hours long - how the hell do people sit through those?

If anything, I blame that piece being too clever for your average listener to understand. Yeah, I said it.

Thanks. I'm a perfectionist, no matter how useless the task at hand. LIke this web site - there's no reason for me to have to have everything so exact, and in fact, it actually lowers the aesthetic value to have everything perfect.

I made the "me" in the title of this post lowercase on purpose, and it stressed me out so badly I almost had to post an explanation that it was on purpose and not a mistake.

There's a lot of serious stuff in this post and I'm not sure I have anything to contribute really except to say a) it is always, always good to reconnect with friends and b) if you and your friend ever want to send me any terrible homemade ambient music I will totally listen to it.

Hey! thanks for the hallucinogenic addition to my Bucket List! I need to get to work on markin' 'em off 'stead'a puttin' more on. and ... Rupert's right about you in the first photo. You look like a WE and not a ME in that picture; stronger, more self assured. Not that you don't spit moxie NOW, as a YOU, you understand ....btw Aesop looks like a we in that photo as well .... to me

Hey, I don't even fill up the gas tank of the car anymore. Why die with a full tank of Exxon gas? And I used to buy Powerball tickets that lasted for twenty draws... now I get 'em on the day of the drawing. Who knows when your number's up?

“You deserve to be gassed or shot, depending on the circumstances. You're a health risk, a risk to children, and a risk to society. Sick, disgusting dyke. Crawl off and DIE.”– Paula A. R. DeAngelis, PhD